Revenge is Best Served Dead
by AlexPayne
Summary: A serial killer is taking revenge. will the CSI's be able to catch him before he kills again?
1. Chapter 1

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Revenge is Best Served Dead

Chapter 1

Warm. Yes warm is how he felt as he sat at his cluttered desk with his back to the door. No one knew no one suspected that in their quiet neighborhood of Maple Ridge Court lived a dangerous criminal. Although no crimes were committed yet, there soon would be bloodshed against those who had wronged him in the past.

As I stated before, he was sitting at his desk alone in his two-story house feeling quite warm. His quill dripping red ink onto the pure white paper, hovering waiting to strike down and cut through its heavenly demeanor with its blood coated tip.

Finally the quill sprinted to life, scratching out the name of his first victim. The name was seared into his brain already, but using the red ink to write it down made him feel like he was using Dolores Umbridge's Blood Quill etching the name further into his being.

The name was there soaking the paper with its red venom. His warm breath washed over the paper drying the slow, running ink. He quickly stood up, the legs of his chair screeching across the linoleum floor. The noise didn't bother him; in fact he found it comforting in a way, it broke the deafening silence that usually inhabits his home.

Deciding it was time; he grabbed his bag and jacket off his living room chair, and yanked his front door open. He stepped through the threshold and onto his front step, pausing slightly to pick up the daily newspaper and breathe in the crisp morning air. Waving at a few passing neighbors, he climbed into his car and checked his watch. Perfect, just perfect he had enough time.

He thought, as all murderers do, that he could commit the perfect crime. He was so sure in fact that he wasn't just planning one murder, but three, at least three for now. His first kill was where he was headed now; it didn't matter to him that this particular person lived exactly thirty-three minutes out of his way. Or that he it would take him an extra few minutes to make it to work when he was through.

He of course was smart enough to park a block away from his first victim's house. Grabbing a pair of latex gloves, he left his coat and bag in the car and walked slowly up Silver Castle Street. He was lucky, today there was hardly any activity or foot traffic, and he was able to walk up the street without any incident. He slowly stalked up her driveway and upon seeing no lights illuminating the inside of the house, tiptoed into the backyard.

He peered into the woman's patio window. Seeing her asleep on the couch with the television on the Home Shopping Network, he decided that now would be the best time to enter. He would catch her by surprise hopefully making his whole plan come together better than it would if she were awake. Although he doubted the woman would leave her patio door unlocked, he gave it a small tug anyway sighing in relief and chuckling a bit when it gave after just a one-fingered tug.

He slowly pulled the door open, taking care not to make any noise. He felt much like the man in Poe's story _The Tell-Tale Heart_ although he didn't know the woman's daily habits and he knew that he would not be wracked with guilt, for she had wronged him first. The sound of the latest saleswoman on the television screen muted the noise of the sliding door clicking shut once he finally climbed inside.

Ever so carefully, he inched his way toward the bookcase where he spotted an unusual bookend. Unsure of using the bookend for his murder weapon, he decided to examine the piece further. As he pulled the bookend from the shelf, a large biology text book toppled over. The deafening boom was enough to wake to slumbering woman with a start. There was no more time to think, the book made his choice for him. Before the woman could turn around and gasp, he struck her at an upward angle in the back of the head. She fell to a heap on the ground.

He could almost picture her head separating from her spine. The sickening crack he had heard before she fell made his heart race with adrenaline. He stared at her for a long minute before returning the bookend to its shelf. He pulled a picture out of his pocket and careful not to disturb anything, placed it inside the woman's front pocket.

Pulling the patio door open once more, he whispered "goodbye Elizabeth" before stepping back out into the warm morning sun. With a new found hop in his step, he marched back down the street towards his car. He sat there for a few minutes with his eyes closed burning that morning events into his brain before starting his car and driving down the road toward work.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 2

Sara Sidle sat in the passenger's seat of her supervisors Denali. They were on their way to a 419 on Silver Castle Street. Every few seconds, Sara would sneak a quick peek at her boss from the corner of her eye. He looked tired, purple, bruise-like bags puffed out slightly underneath his sleep clouded blue eyes. She noticed a few more lines on his face, sleep deprivation lines is what she liked to call them, not that she was much better.

Besides being social inept, Gil Grissom was a more then worthy boss. He was the guy to go to if a case became confusing, or if John, Paul, George, and Ringo decided to make an appearance on a body. He was also easy to avoid when he needed help with one of his experiments. Sara couldn't help but shutter as she recalled Grissom painting bacteria on Greg Sanders feet. He never really experimented on her, but he did ask her to clean up his ground meat after he used it to make a bullet. She remembers him telling her to have Nick clean it up after she yelled at him, reminding him that she was a vegetarian. That's when she threatened to leave, and he sent her a plant as a way to make her stay. Yes she laughed at his inability to function in a social setting.

The entire car ride was silent. Not an awkward silence, but an 'I'm fine with silence, if you're fine with silence' type situation. It didn't take them long before they were parking their Denali behind one of the several police cars. They paused to take in their surroundings. The house was a beautiful sandy color, the lawn a luscious green. A few tall Japanese Maples hovered close to the house on either side, while smaller shrubs lined the top of the driveway almost making a path towards the front door. Sara and Gil sauntered over to the trunk, swung it open, and grabbed their kits.

"What have we got Jim?" Grissom asked the vertically challenged detective.

Jim Brass pulled out a small spiral notebook from his sport coat pocket and flipped it open before answering.

"Vic's name is Elizabeth Clark age 57. Previously employed by UNLV but she recently retired. Friend says she came by to pick her up for a girl's night out, and when Elizabeth didn't answer the door her friend went to look through the back patio window. That's when she saw Elizabeth on the floor in front of the couch. She says the patio door was unlocked so she went in, checked for a pulse and when she didn't find one she called us."

Gil nodded in approval before heading inside. Sara said her quiet thanks and headed towards the house behind her boss. If they thought the outside was impressive, they were taken aback by the inside. The ceilings were high, crystal chandeliers hung from sliver chains, the walls a soft peach, with warm sandy carpet. They strolled through the front entrance way toward the sound of the coroner's voice.

"Hey David what can you tell…oh you're not David" Sara said looking skeptically at the dirty-blonde man in front of her.

"No I'm not, thanks for noticing. I'm Dustin Green, Doctor Robbins temporary replacement. I'll be here as long as he's on vacation. You must be Ms. Sidle and Dr. Grissom" the man said smiling and holding out his hand in friendly gesture. They both shook his hand.

"Ok Dustin, what have you got for us? Oh and it's just Sara please"

"Well just Sara, according to her liver temp, she's been dead roughly seventeen hours. Looks like blunt force trauma to the back of the head, must have used something heavy or they must have put a lot of force behind it because from what I can tell right now, her head separated from her spine. Let me know when I can take her." He finished before stepping away from the woman's body.

Sara whispered her thanks while snapping on a pair of latex gloves. She patted the woman's side pockets on her pajama pants and found nothing. She glanced up at the woman's shirt and saw a corner of a piece of paper sticking out. She gently slid the paper from its hiding place and gave it a once over.

"Grissom, I found a picture of a man in a green spandex in the Vic's shirt pocket." She said holding it up so Grissom could take a closer look.

"_In brightest day, in blackest night,_

_No evil shall escape my sight_

_Let those who worship evil's might,_

_Beware my power... Green Lantern's light!"_

"I take it that's not Shakespeare" Sara said with an amused smirk.

"Sara, that's the Green Lantern. See his glowing green power ring; it's sustained by the ring wearer's strength of will. That ring has the power to render the user invisible, teleport, and generate force fields amongst other abilities."

"Right, so what is it doing in our Vic's pocket?"

"I don't know, maybe it belonged to someone she knows and she kept it with her at all times."

Sara just shrugged her shoulders and continued processing. Grissom wandered over to the book shelf and snapped a few pictures before holding up the brass bookend.

"Hey Sara, think this could have done it?" he asked twirling the bookend in his hand.

She nodded. "Alright Dustin I think that's good for now, you can take her." Sara said before standing upright and joining Grissom by the bookcase.

"You think its heavy enough?" she questioned her supervisor.

"Yes, I think that with enough force this could have been used as the murder weapon." He responded placing the bookend in an evidence bag before sealing it up and tagging it.

They finished collecting the rest of their evidence bags and trudged back through the front door. They loaded their bags into the back of the Denali and climbed back into the car. Now they just needed to distribute their various evidence bags to Hodges, Wendy, and Mandy.

Thirty minutes later, Gil and Sara sat in the break room nursing hot cups of black sludge. They were both wishing they knew where Greg kept his stash of Blue Hawaiian, so they wouldn't have to drink the crime lab's poor excuse for coffee. They were discussing their case. Dustin's theory was correct; Elizabeth Clark was internally decapitated so he didn't have anything new to add to their investigation. Hodges had their hair samples they collected off their Vic's clothes and the fingerprints they peeled off the bookend were still running through AFIS.

The computer alerted them that their prints were found in the system. But they both let out a collective frustrated sigh when they realized the prints came back to Elizabeth Clark. They knew they were in for a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 3

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Anxious, giddy the list of emotions went on. He watched them, Gil and Sara, without them knowing they were being watched. He saw how they floundered, trying to find some new lead in Elizabeth's case. They even called the others in to help, fresh eyes is what they called it. He knew they weren't going to get any new leads, his plan was meticulously thought out. Of course he also saw when they tacked her picture onto the fish board, the ones who got away. That was a week ago, yes a week had passed since he felt that rush. He needed to feel it again, that's why he was where he was, on Angelus Oaks Drive.

This time he decided to commit his crime under the mask of the pitch-black night sky. Two hours, that is how long he had before needing to be at work. He swung out the cylinder on his Smith and Wesson 36 revolver and fed in his .38 special rounds, the frigid metal a welcome feeling against his clammy skin. He knew for a fact that his latest victims have been fighting and it brought a twisted smile to his face. Perfect, their little lovers' quarrel made his plan all the better.

Their house was smaller than the first, and the lawn had less foliage to cover his movements. Thankfully the couple hadn't installed their lawn lights, making his trek up their short, concrete driveway easier. He tucked his gun securely in its holster, taking care not to secure it too tightly.

He crept his way up the rest of the driveway, and before stepping onto the dimly lit porch slid his right hand into his pocket. Feeling the smooth plastic syringe, he stepped under the dull rays of the dirty brown light bulb. He jabbed his glove covered finger into the yellow button and peered through the window. The sound of wind chimes filled the small house, and a mop of orange skater-hair appeared from around the corner.

The man pulled open the door. Shining emerald green met dangerous, hard hazel before he ripped the syringe from his pocket and sunk it deep into the man's neck. He laughed darkly as he pulled the man away from the door, the syringe still stuck in his skin. He yanked it back and chuckled lowly thinking about the liquid Ketamine coursing through the vile man's veins. The woman was due home any minute, and he was going to make sure she got the shock of her life.

He positioned the man on the couch; it almost looked as though he was sleeping. The sound of the garage door opening had him diving for the nearest closet. He saw her walk in; he waited in anticipation for her to notice the drugged man on the couch. She finally did, and he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was as her golden blonde hair cascaded down onto the unconscious man's face as she begged him to wake up. That's when he emerged from the closet, his hand holding firmly onto his holstered gun. Hearing the closet door squeak open, she turned and gasped.

"Hello Sandra," he sneered.

"How did you get in here? What did you do to him? Is he dead?" the questions tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them.

"No, of course he's not dead. He should be coming around soon enough. I wouldn't want him to sleep through my revenge. I want to see the look on his face when I kill you!!"

The sigh of relief upon hearing her love wasn't dead, was sucked back in after hearing of the psychos murderous plot.

"What do you want from me?"

"I wanted your love, I wanted you to be faithful, but you had to cheat on me with that scum. Well now he is going to know what it feels like to lose you!!" he shouted upon hearing the drugged man groan.

The woman didn't even have time to run. She tried, oh how she tried. Her efforts were useless thought. With three deafening explosions she fell forward, the desert brown carpet soaking up her crimson blood. He stared at her lifeless form until a small thud brought him out of his daydreams. He turned to see the boyfriend on the floor in front of the couch, the Ketamine still affecting his system. He placed the gun in the man's right hand and aided him in pulling the trigger. He dropped the limp limb back onto the carpet, which was now coated with the man's scarlet blood drops.

He grabbed a few blood spattered pictures from the desk and made one quick pit-stop in the bathroom before heading back down the street to his car. His gloves made sickening snaps as he peeled them off his hands. He now had thirty minutes before he was due at work. Just enough time to go home, change and pretend like none of this ever happened. This time around he was much more confident in his ability to evade police suspicions. He hoped that these murders would have the CSI's chasing their tails as much as his last murder did.


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 4

Dustin Green was leaning over the body of Mike Arnold with a thermometer held firmly in his hand. He felt for the hard ridge at the bottom of the sternum, then moved one inch down and one inch to Mike's right. Using a needlelike probe, he made an entry point for the thermometers spike. As soon as he finished removing the thermometer, he drew a red circle and initialized the entrance site. He looked up just as a striking blue-eyed blonde walked in followed by three laughing men.

"You must be Catherine. I'm Dustin, Dustin Green."

She shook his hand and nodded. "This is Warrick, Nick, and Greg." She said pointing at the muscular, African American on her right, then to the burly, Mahogany-haired man on her left, before her slender gloved finger landed on the energetic, boyish man who was standing slightly behind all of them. Their smiles faded as they shook Dustin's hand, they were all business now.

"Looks like a murder suicide, but you can never be too careful" Dustin said before stepping out of Catherine's way.

Catherine's authority filled voice filled the entire room, "alright, Nicky and Greg take the perimeter. Warrick and I will work in here."

The men set out at once; an angry Catherine was not something they needed. Nick and Greg strolled around the perimeter of the home. The lawn was a stone desert, no grass in sight until they made their way to the backyard. They weren't collecting anything yet, just trying to get a better sense of their surroundings before taking a closer scientific look.

"Okay Greggo, we're looking for shoe impressions, and any area of disturbance. We also have to make sure we print the doorbell, and the door handles." Nick instructed before heading back out to the front porch. He knew he didn't have to tell Greg what they needed to find anymore, he has been out in the field enough, but old habits die hard.

Greg set to work in the back; he was used to people telling him what to do. He knew it wasn't because they didn't trust him it was just because he was the new guy and they weren't used to him being out of the lab. Pulling open his kit, he grabbed his fingerprinting dust and brush and waddled on bent knees to the patio door. Using short, quick strokes he ran his powder-dipped brush against the pristine white plastic of the doors handle. He found multiple prints and some smudges, and was overall very happy with the outcome.

Nick was kneeling on the front porch dusting the cracked, yellow button for the doorbell. Just his luck, there were no usable prints. He sighed, frustrated with his lack of results, he just hoped that the others were faring better then he was. Sighing once more, he ducked down to print the screen doors handle, collecting two beautifully detailed prints. He found another print and a few smudges on the front doors brass handle.

Greg rejoined Nick in the front of the house. He informed Nick of his findings as they trekked down the concrete driveway. Their trained investigative eyes zeroed in on a disturbance in the tree-lawn grass. As they got closer they realized that it was a set of deep shoe impressions. Greg, in his newly excited state, rushed to his kit while Nick photographed the impressions. They carefully set up the solid frames making sure not to disturb the treads, and poured the dental stone, covering the entire tread.

The cast needed at least thirty minutes to set. Nick and Greg stared at it the entire time; they looked like two kids on Christmas waiting for Santa to come shooting down the chimney. After about thirty-three minutes Nick crouched down over the cast and gave it a few good taps. Upon hearing the tell-tale high-pitch sound he knew they were finished. He extracted them delicately from the ground and passed them to Greg. Greg cautiously picked them up from Nick's hands and gently laid them inside the cardboard box. Both satisfied with their collected evidence, they ambled back up the driveway and into the house.

"Hey Cath, we finished up outside. We found some prints and a few good shoe impressions." Nick informed her before asking if they needed any help.

"Ok Nicky that's great, Warrick and I will just finish up here. You and Greg take your evidence back to the lab and start processing, I will let you know when we're on our way back."

"Alright see you later." He said grabbing Greg's elbow and ushering him out the door.

A while later they were back in the cool air conditioned lab. They dropped their prints off with Mandy, and they were currently studying their shoe impressions. They had books of shoe treads open on the table in front of them, but they knew it could be a while before they found a match. The one thought that kept them motivated was the fact that with every turn of a laminated page, they got closer to finding their match. Hoping Warrick and Catherine found something probative; Nick opened another book full of possible shoe tread matches.


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 5

Catherine worked diligently; she snapped photos of the two victims and tested their hands for GSR. She was surprised to find that the male victim, Mike Arnold, barely had any GSR on his clothes or his hands. The female victim, Sandra Elk, didn't have any GSR on her at all which didn't really surprise the two investigators.

"Hey Cath, I've got a void in this blood spatter on the desk. Looks like something small and rectangular, possibly an envelope or photographs." Warrick announced before snapping a few photos.

"According to the neighbor who found them, they have been fighting a lot. Maybe he finally snapped." Catherine mused.

Warrick finished up with the desk and decided to take a look around the rest of the room. There was a small door in the corner leading to the bathroom. Stepping inside and flicking on the lights, he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. He was backing out, his hand on the light switch when he saw it.

"Umm Catherine, I think I found something."

"Whoa, doesn't Grissom and Sara's case have something to do with this?"

"Yeah, I think we've got ourselves a serial" Warrick responded. He pulled out his camera while Catherine pulled out her phone. The flash from the camera filled the room as he captured photos of the green hourglass like picture painted on the bathroom mirror, the symbol of the Green Lantern.

Grissom was sitting in his office with the door shut and his blinds closed. He felt a migraine coming on. Images of Elizabeth Clark's murder ran through his head, something was bothering him about that case although he couldn't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it was the fact that the scene was so clean almost like she internally decapitated herself. He scoffed at his ridiculous thoughts there had to be an explanation. A soft knock on the door brought him back from his thoughts.

"Come in"

"Hey Grissom, Catherine just called from her scene, she says our cases are connected and that we should grab Nick and Greg and head to the conference room. She says she and Warrick will join us shortly." Sara said poking her head inside the door and disappearing as soon as she was finished speaking.

Forgetting all about his headache, he jumped from his chair rattling the shelves behind his desk and sped through the halls to the conference room. He arrived just as Warrick and Catherine entered.

"So what have we got?" Grissom questioned eager to have a new lead.

"I had Dustin send a sample of both our victims' blood to toxicology, still waiting for results. Our case looked like a murder suicide until Warrick found the Green Lantern's symbol painted on the bathroom mirror. So boys any luck with the shoe treads or fingerprints?"

"Fingerprints were all a match to the couple occupying the house and the shoes are New Balance men's size 11, victim wears a 9."

"Well the first victim, Elizabeth Clark, was a biology professor at UNLV is there any connection there?" Sara questioned glancing at her notes.

"No. neither Mike nor Sandra took a biology course in college." Catherine replied looking disappointed.

At that moment Henry Andrews entered the conference room with his nose practically attached to the paper in front of him.

"Your male DB was drugged with liquid Ketamine. There is no way he could have shot his girlfriend or himself," he said once he finally looked up from the results page.

Grissom snatched the paper away from Henry muttering a quick 'thank you'. They continued looking over their notes and processing their evidence almost until the end of shift. Grissom sent Greg to the morgue to see if Dustin could tell them anything else. He returned with some news that shocked the entire team.


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 6

Alex Jones rushed into Office Max and dashed behind the counter to clock in. Swiping his hand across his forehead, he took a few deep breaths before heading back out to the sales floor. He chanced a quick peek at his boss who was glaring at him through narrowed eyes. He laughed quietly to himself; he didn't need another lecture about being late when he only lived seven minutes away. The place was practically deserted, only a few customers dotted the aisles. Since there wasn't a rush of people and everyone seemed to be shopping fine on their own, he decided to check out the schedule. The schedule was tacked up on the door behind the printing center desk, he sighed as he realized that he would be the person closing. 'Great another long day' he thought to himself.

The sound of a paper shredder a few aisles away brought him out of his thoughts. He never really understood why people needed to test the paper shredders. To him shredded paper was shredded paper. His eyes glanced over the aisles, stopping on the dirty-blonde man. He recognized the man from the previous week. Thinking back, he realized that the man was using that same shredder almost an exact week ago. Putting on his best "salesman smile" he walked toward the man.

"Hello sir, do you need any assistance?"

"No I think I'm finished here. Thank you though." The man said before turning on his heels and walking through the automatic doors.

Alex thought his behavior was strange, but he just shrugged figuring he was in Vegas. He turned toward the now quiet machine, and paled. Fumbling for his phone, only one thought crossed his mind, 'this cannot be good'.

It was time for his break; he knew the CSI's were still getting nowhere fast. He applauded them for actually connecting the murders, although he did try and make it painfully obvious. He had an hour before he was due back at work and he knew just what he needed to do. Pulling into his driveway, he left his car running and jogged into his house. The photographs he picked up at his last victim's house lay waiting on the kitchen table. He stared at them for a few minutes, basking in the warmth of those moments. Sandra, her deep, ocean blue eyes trained on his face. Her golden hair tied up in a ponytail, a smile gracing her beautiful lips. He thought she was happy, that they were meant to be together, that is until Mike came along and ruined his entire life.

A frustrated growl escaped his lips and his hands curled into fists crumpling the photos in his hand. He couldn't remember how long he'd been standing there lost in thought, but he did recall leaving his car running. Smoothing out the pictures, he trudged back through his house and into his car making his way toward his next destination.

The parking lot was practically vacant as he pulled in, the bright-red 'O' flashed deciding whether it wanted to burn out completely. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead as he marched toward the correct aisle. Thankfully his machine was already on as he approached. Pulling the photos out of his pocket, he inched them closer to the machines sharp, hungry teeth. As the shreds of the photograph landed in the belly of the shredding beast, he couldn't help but feel that destroying his connection to Sandra and Mike felt better then when he disposed of his connection to Elizabeth Clark the previous week.

"Hello sir, do you need any assistance?" a short bearded employee asked. He recognized him from his last visit.

"No I think I'm finished here. Thank you though." He replied politely before disappearing down the aisle and through the automatic doors.

He glanced at his dashboard clock as he started his car. He now had fifteen minutes to make it back to work, unfortunately that required a fourteen minute drive. He drove as fast as he could without being reckless, making it to work with seconds to spare.

Skidding into the morgue, he barely remembered to grab his lab coat. With his left arm through his lab coat, he pushed open the doors only to see Greg waiting for him. They shared a quick greeting and he noticed when Greg's eyes darted to the tattoo on his right forearm. He released a quick breath when he realized his tattoo didn't register in Greg's mind. A few seconds of complete silence passed before he looked up at Greg, who seemed to be taking a great interest in his shoes. Before he could say anything, Greg had sprinted out of the lab.

Looking down at his shoes, he noticed a few drops of blood. 'Shit' he thought before racing out the door he recently entered through.

Brass was sitting in his office staring at a picture of his estranged daughter Ellie when the shrill ring from his cell phone erupted from his pocket.

"Brass" he answered, "what? Ok, calm down sir, I will send someone immediately."

He snapped his phone shut before tearing out of his office to find Grissom. He found them all huddled around the conference room table. They all looked slightly horrified, except Grissom who looked deep in thought.

"Sorry to break up the party but we've got blood" Brass said before leaving the room, seven confused people stared after him.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 7

Grissom stared at Greg when he came rushing back to the conference room.

"What is it now Greg did Dustin find something?" he questioned the now panting man.

"Dustin…tattoo…blood…shoes!!" he wheezed out clutching his chest.

"Greg calm down and tell us what happened," Grissom said as he began to get frustrated.

"I was in the morgue when Dustin came skidding through the doors, with only half his lab coat on. I saw a tattoo of the Green Lantern symbol on his right forearm, and there was blood on his white **New Balance** athletic shoes." Greg replied getting excited.

He looked up at everyone's faces. They all look horrified at the thought of working with a serial killer. Grissom on the other hand look deep in thought. 'Of course, he probably knew all along, he just wanted to see how long it would take us to catch on. Typical Grissom' Greg thought. His thoughts were interrupted as Brass walked into the room.

"Sorry to break up the party but we've got blood" he announced before leaving the room. They all stared after him before Grissom got up and started following him. The rest of the team followed shortly after.

"Jim what is going on?" Grissom questioned once he finally caught up with his friend.

"I got a distressed call from an Office Max employee he said, and I repeat, "Help, we've got blood in our machine. You gave me your card a while back and told me to call if I ever needed help, so here I am calling and needing your help. Please help, there is blood in our paper shredding machine." Brass said in his usual monotone voice.

Grissom couldn't help but smirk at the way the message sounded coming from Brass. "Alright Catherine, Warrick, you two go see if Dustin's still here. Don't let him know we're on to him, just keep asking him questions about the victims. Greg, Nick, Sara, you're all with me. Let's go see about the blood in the shredder." Grissom commanded as he continued following Brass out the doors.

They were pulling into Office Max abandoned parking lot fifteen minutes later. The lights from the police cars out front bounced off the glass of the automatic doors. A frazzled, bearded man greeted them at the door.

"Hi, thank you for coming. The machine is right this way." He said leading them down the aisle. "The same guy was here last week, but there wasn't any blood. He was strange though."

"Strange how?" Grissom asked while peering into the paper shredder.

"Well, he just came in, shredded some papers and left. He always used this machine." Alex replied.

"You said he was here last week. You would by any chance have those scraps would you?" Sara asked as she swabbed the top of the machine.

"As a matter of fact we do. If you two gentleman would like to follow me, I can point you in the right direction." He said escorting Nick and Greg to the storage room.

Ten minutes later, Grissom had finished fishing the photograph scraps out from the bottom of the scrap-catching trashcan. He handed each piece up to Sara who was trying to put them back together.

"Griss look at this," Sara said after fitting together the last piece.

He peered over her shoulder. The blood spattered photograph was of Dustin Green and Sandra Elk. She flipped the photo over revealing the Green Lantern's symbol with the words 'Cheating Bitch' written inside.

"That's what I call angry" Sara said.

"That's what I call motive" Grissom replied.

Nick and Greg were sifting through the three garbage bags full of scraps.

"You think if I get a paper cut and it gets infected and they have to saw off my hand, I would get workers comp?" Greg questioned as he finished searching through his first bag.

"I don't know man, but you could probably get fitted with a hook," Nick answered tossing back his first bag.

Greg laughed as he tore open the last bag. He handed a pile of scraps to Nick while he dug into the rest.

"Woohoo Greggo, I think I found something." Nick shouted shoving a few scraps in Greg's face.

It looked like it was from UNLV. "Looks like he failed biology his freshman year, oh and what a surprise, he had Professor Elizabeth Clark." Greg said as he abandoned his bag and helped Nick find the last piece of the document in his pile.

Once they found the last piece, they packed up the rest of the scraps and headed out to see how Grissom and Sara were doing.

They heard the end of their conversation as they approached. "That's what I call angry." Sara said staring down at the papers in her hands. "That's what I call motive." Grissom replied before noticing Nick and Greg had arrived.

"Seems Dustin knew your female vic, and he didn't think very highly of her." Grissom announced.

"Yeah well it also seems that Dustin knew your vic, and he didn't appreciate her grading techniques" Greg said as Grissom's phone began to ring.

"Grissom…Ok we'll be right there." He said snapping his phone shut.

"Apparently Dustin's no longer in the morgue, Catherine and Warrick are going to meet us at his house." Grissom informed them.

They grabbed up their evidence and raced back out to the car.


	8. Chapter 8

I do not own these characters…Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS do

Chapter 8

He rushed out the door, pausing as he got to the end of the hallway. Ten minutes he must have waited until he heard the sound of people approaching. Peeking around the corner, he saw Catherine and Warrick enter the morgue. He had left his belongings behind in his rush to escape, and he could hear them shuffling through them. He pulled his head back just as they pushed open the door and glanced around the hallway.

"I wonder if they found anything at Office Max" Warrick said breaking the silence that seemed to be settled around them.

"I don't know, but I'll call him and ask. Maybe if they're finished they can meet us at Dustin's home." Catherine replied flipping open her cell.

"Yeah hi Gil, listen Dustin is not here, we were going to head over to his house. If you guys are finished you could meet us there. The address is 3095 Maple Ridge Court. Ok I'll see you there." She hung up the phone, and they exited through the opposite doors.

His mind was reeling, 'my house. They have to search my house.' Obviously that former lab rat was more observant than he thought. He stood there, silently fuming, for how long, he couldn't say, it could have been seconds, minutes, possibly even hours. One thought did manage to break through his anger fueled haze, 'what were the CSI's doing at Office Max?'

He stalked to his car going over the day's events in his mind. Then it hit him, the Office Max employee with the stupid fake smile must have ratted him out. That man just made one of the worst decisions of his life. On his way to Office Max, he decided to drive past his house. The police and the CSI's were everywhere; he even saw the SWAT team's van parked a little ways down the street.

He laughed darkly to himself as he sped toward his final destination. Luck must have been on his side because when he pulled into the Office Max parking lot, there were no cars and only one person inside, Alex Jones. He parked far enough away not to call attention to himself and popped the trunk.

He pulled rope, scissors, and duct tape from the trunk before sprinting through the shadows toward the building. Alex was sweeping up the aisles, his back to the door. He turned as he heard the automatic doors swish open, to tell whoever it was that they were closed, but something hit him from behind. He came to minutes later with a killer headache. He was tied tightly to a chair, duct tape across his mouth, and Dustin Green smiling viciously at him while twirling a pair of scissors around his index finger.

Dustin let him struggle a bit before speaking. "I'm so sorry I had to hit you on the head, but I didn't want you running off on me now did I? But now that you're awake, are you ready for the real fun to begin?" Dustin questioned the bound man. He inched closer to Alex. "You shouldn't have told on me Alex, I'm always ready for revenge" he added bringing the scissors closer to his exposed arms.

The scissors cut deeply into his forearm, his painful screams muffled by the silver muzzle. He lost count of how many times the scissors carved into his skin, all he knew is that he couldn't take any more pain.

Just as he was about to slip into unconsciousness, someone yelled "FREEZE, DROP YOUR WEAPON." Warm liquid sprayed onto his face, he saw his captor fall to the ground, and he felt himself being untied. He stumbled out into the warm night arm, holding tightly to someone's arm. The paramedics pulled him towards the ambulance and slammed the doors. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was flashing police lights and a burned out giant 'O'.

Grissom, Sara, Nick, and Greg pulled onto Dustin's street. They parked a few houses down and grabbed their kits from the trunk. Catherine and Warrick had beaten them there and were already inside. They were shuffling through the papers on his desk.

"Well I found a hit list," Catherine said holding up a white paper with the names of their victims written in blood-red ink.

They continued their search. Greg found green spray paint in his garage; Sara found out that his shoe size was 11 and another pair of New Balance shoes. After bagging and tagging everything they still had one unanswered question, where was Dustin?

"Well he killed Elizabeth Clark for failing him, Sandra Elk for cheating on him, and Mike Arnold for stealing his girlfriend. Who else do you think he wanted revenge on?" Nick asked flipping through some of the papers Catherine found on his desk.

Greg picked up a receipt from the counter. Flipping it over, he realized that it was from Office Max. Suddenly a thought hit him, could Dustin possibly know about Alex telling them about the blood?

"Guys is there any way that Dustin could have known about Alex telling us about the blood in the paper shredder?" Greg asked earning puzzled stares from everyone in the room.

They considered the thought for a moment before rushing out the door and into their cars. With sirens blaring, they raced toward Office Max pulling into the parking lot at record speed. The police cars pulled up in front of the building, the cops climbed out of their cars and squatted behind their door, guns drawn. The SWAT team circled the building.

Brass along with a few police men approached the building. Signaling with his hands, Brass told the cops to go ahead. He followed closely behind as they entered into the air-conditioned building. They spotted Dustin a few aisles ahead; he had Alex Jones tied to a chair.

"FREEZE, DROP YOUR WEAPON" Brass yelled startling Dustin.

Dustin turned around, his open scissors glistening with Alex's blood making it look as though he was Sweeney Todd brandishing his razors. Before Brass could tell him to put the scissors down again, Dustin dragged the sharp edges across his throat drenching Alex in his blood. He fell to the ground with a thud. Brass ran over to Alex untying him from the chair. Sara seemed to appear out of nowhere to escort him out to the ambulance. It looked as though he had a nasty bump on his head and what looked like the Green Lantern symbol carved into his forearm.

The paramedics took Dustin's limp body away on a stretcher as Grissom and the rest of his team came to process the scene.

"I never really understood why people have to kill other people" Sara said returning from outside.

"Well you know what they say, revenge is best served dead," Grissom replied as he swabbed some of Dustin's blood off the floor.


End file.
